


The Air That I Breathe

by hdarchive



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, M/M, mermaid!kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-10
Packaged: 2018-02-16 19:54:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2282559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hdarchive/pseuds/hdarchive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ocean is wide and deep, dark and lonely, and Kurt visits the surface as often as he can. He thinks nothing could be brighter than the sun, until he meets Blaine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Air That I Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: potential spoiler: sex does not take place when Kurt is a mermaid.

There is nothing even remotely similar to the sun where Kurt comes from.

Large and gold, illuminating the entire sky so that it comes clear. In his younger days, an ache would form behind his eyes if he stared too long. And he can never stay out for too many hours or else his skin will darken and sting.

But where Kurt comes from he’s surrounded by green-black darkness, and he can’t keep away from the glittering orb in the sky.

Down in the deep, below the waves, there aren’t as many sounds. Everything is combined, mixed into the water, echoes of human voices and their large ships, the roar of a current.

Up here there’s the true essence of a human voice. Deep, high, low, long. There’s birds that cry into the air as they fly and the sound of waves lapping over the shore.

Kurt swims to the surface, a pound in his heart as he sees the flickering of the light across the water, a large blue sky waiting for him. His first breath always hurts, rubs his throat raw. His favourite spot is a cluster of rocks closer to the shore, and if he sits on it facing the west he can find concealment.

And there’s his seagull. Large white bird that happily squawks at him when he swims closer. Kurt smiles, opens his mouth to make a greeting noise - he almost always forgets about his impairment when he first surfaces - but nothing comes out.

He hauls himself up on the rock, pushes with all his strength to get the body of his tail up, keeping his fin in the water. 

The seagull clicks across the rock, beak open as it makes loud noises, twitching its head up at Kurt. 

 _Right here, little guy,_ he thinks, holding up the small fish he caught along the way.

The bird hops closer, carefully, and then in one quick motion extends its neck and snaps at the fish before taking off.

Kurt squints his eyes, watching the bird struggle to fly with the fish in its mouth. Smiles even though something pinches in his chest.

Can’t even keep a seagull as a friend. _Oh, Kurt, you are doomed . . ._

Below the water, an ocean that goes on for miles and miles, deep and wide and extending far - and not a single friend. Millions of fish, thousands of his kind, one seagull . . . and not a single friend.

A light breeze brushes past him, and he sighs it in through his nose, leans back on the rock, lets the waves lap around his tail. On the breeze travels the faint voices of humans. Warm and cold, dark and light, but they always sound alive. Kurt closes his eyes, senses the sunshine from behind his lids, and drifts off.

A pebble clacks against the surface of the rock, tumbles until it plops into the water. Kurt snaps his eyes open, sitting up, instinct pulling at his gut. Another pebble lands beside him and Kurt turns just in time to see a figure approaching, sliding down the highs and lows of the cluster.

Alarm rings loud in his mind, thrumming through his body, and with wide eyes and a stammering heart he flings himself back into the water.

A voice calls out to him, travelling through the ripples. Calling and calling to him, yelling out, “Wait!”

The voice doesn’t sound dark, doesn't sound cold.

He flicks his tail, slowly emerges to the top, peeks only part of his head out.

“- wait!”

The figure - the human - nearly collapses to the flat edge of the rock, stumbling until he’s kneeling right before the water.

And like his voice, the human sure doesn’t look dangerous. Harmless, really. Like he couldn’t even catch a fish if he tried.

“Oh - hello.”

Without the ocean clouding his voice . . well, Kurt only has the sun to compare it to. It’s the most interesting sound he’s ever heard.

He pushes himself through the water to get a touch closer.

“You don’t - please don’t be scared.”

Kurt fights his smile. _How could I be scared of you? I’ve met scarier clams._

The human’s legs slip into the water, and Kurt doesn’t mean to flinch at the sudden splash but he does, ducking back down so his shoulders are covered once more.

The human doesn’t move, still as stone, water lapping at his legs, fingers curled on the edge of the rock. Doesn’t move except for his face, which lights up in a smile and -

Kurt only has the sun to compare it to.

He feels his lungs expand with air that he can’t breathe out. Feels the corners of his mouth twitch, careful slip of a smile. Can’t swallow air, can’t release it, he feels motionless as this human _beams_ at him.

Waves push him forward, and then he’s mere inches from the rock, from the human.

His eyes are like flames, the exact opposite of the bottom of the ocean. Like flames but nowhere near as dangerous.

So Kurt swims closer, closer, until the hard rock brushes his skin and he can rest his arms on the ledge, looking up at him.

“Wow.” Is all the human says, eyes traveling down to Kurt’s face to his tail, fin sticking out of the water behind him. He breathes in deep, blows it out hard. “Wow.”

Human legs are strange, strange things, Kurt thinks. The human kicks them a little in the water, right next to him, and Kurt suppresses the urge to run a hand over one. He’s never been this close.

They don’t like humans. Because humans make boats and boats leave poison in the water. Humans take too many fish and humans leave things that don’t belong in their ocean. Humans hurt Kurt’s kind, but how could this one do any of that?

He’s smiling at him, and Kurt smiles back, because he doesn’t know what else to do.

This human is prettier than any seashell he has in his collection.

“Wow - sorry, I don’t know what to . . .” he says, mouth falling open when Kurt tilts his head to the side, resting on his hands.

When the human’s eyebrows raise and then squeeze together and his eyes get small, Kurt feels tingles in his stomach, in his heart, in every breath he’s hardly managing.

“Can you speak?” he asks, pulling his legs out of the water and then underneath him, leaning forward on his hands.

Kurt opens his mouth, smile wide now, tries to say _something_ but - his throat scrapes dry, rough, and it _hurts_. A crackling noise comes out instead, and his eyes widen, dread quickly icing over the tingling nerves.

“That’s okay,” the human says, quietly. “Don’t worry.”

Kurt keeps his mouth open, tries to work out a noise that somewhat resembles a word. He knows what language the human is speaking, he understands every word. Years and years of echoing voices. He knows, but he can’t. Frustration is bright in his chest, and he finally swallows, pulling his arms off the rock and back into the water.

“Hey, hey. How about I do all the talking?” The human looks to the shore, the sand, and when he looks back to Kurt his expression is excited, hopeful; a light turned on. “Do you have a name? Can you spell it for me?”

He gets up and travels over the rocks, wades into the water and splashes his way to the shore. Kurt takes a moment, can’t take his eyes off of the human’s legs. How do they move so fast on those things?

Kurt swims with slow, hesitant flicks of his tail before creeping into the shore, pulling up close to where the human is sitting.

“Just write it in the sand.”

And Kurt can understand the human’s language, but his kind communicate in sounds and symbols.

Hauling himself up, the human opposite him, he drags a finger through the wet sand. Circles and squares and lines.

The human makes a noise of his own, sounding amused, and when Kurt looks to him his eyebrows are high up his head.

“Is that - ?”

Kurt lowers his head, narrows his eyes, and indicates to the symbols again with a wave of his hand. Are those not the same symbols they use?

“Well, then, it’s lovely to meet you . . .” the human says, looks at the symbols, then trails off. Then he’s sticking his hand out, and Kurt stares at it.

“You - um, you shake it?”

Kurt can feel his cheeks heating up, embarrassment traveling up his body to rest in his face. He doesn’t hesitate in putting his hand in the human’s and letting him shake it. Humans are strange, strange creatures.

“I’m Blaine.”

When he looks up, those eyes - which Kurt thought were brown, but sand is brown, and his eyes are so much _more_ \- are shining, so open, and Kurt has to duck his head, bite his lip, squeezes his fingers in his.

“It’s spelled a little differently than yours though,” he says, letting go of Kurt’s hand to lean over into the sand, tracing more lines and patterns.

Blaine. He says it over and over in his head. Never heard that word before, but it’s his favourite now. Blaine.

He hopes he can say it one day.

“I’ve heard of the legends before. My older brother tried to scare me by saying you’d pull me off the dock if I dangled my feet.”

Kurt shoots him a sharp look, tail splashing in the water. They would never do that. His kind wouldn’t dare attack a human.

“I was never scared, actually. I always _hoped_ to see one of you, but I never thought - I thought it was only a legend.”

He doesn’t understand what’s not to believe.  
  
“I can’t believe you’re real, I - wow,” Blaine breathes out, leaning back on his hands, eyes stuck to the shimmer of Kurt’s fin waving in the water. “You’re beautiful.”

Heat travels down his face and down his neck and over his chest, and he can’t speak but his throat burns as he _squeaks_.

The human looks over his shoulder, up at the stretch of sand, the docks far off in the distance. Kurt thinks the humans live beyond the hills of sand, heart aching with the knowledge that he’ll never get that far. That must be where Blaine goes.

“They’re probably looking for me . . .” he trails off, eyes still on the distance. He turns back to Kurt, reaches for his hand. “My family is on vacation here. Didn’t want to come - but had I known you existed . . .”

A voice echoes through the air, loud and irritating. Blaine whips his body around, twisting in that direction, hand gripping Kurt’s tighter. Somebody is yelling his name, waving his arms around.

Blaine looks back to Kurt and brings their hands up.

“I need to see you again, please. May I see you again?”

And Kurt hasn’t ever met a human before but if he knew Blaine existed he would have come closer to the shore more often.

And he doesn’t understand where Blaine has to go, but he nods quickly.

Because now that he knows _Blaine_ exists he never wants to leave him.

Blaine smiles wide and it takes up his whole face, and he squeezes Kurt’s hand before lowering it to the sand, stands up and starts to run. He looks back over his shoulder once, smile somehow growing bigger.

Kurt is quick to move back to the water, but he doesn’t dive under until Blaine is a dot in the distance.

As he swims, he thinks; there’s nothing even remotely similar to Blaine where he's from . . .

-

When he returns back to the underwater kingdom and hears the sounds and songs of his people, he’s immediately unsettled. A piece missing from his middle, water flowing right through him. Not right, the sounds aren’t right.

They aren’t Blaine’s.

He spends his time thinking about his voice, playing it over and over in his head. Not like he has a choice though, because even when he tries to shut it off he can’t. Always there.

More magical than the songs they sing.

Surrounded by dark water and voices that go right through him, Kurt decides he wants to speak with him. Anything to hear more of his voice. He wants to know more, he has so many questions.

There’s only one way that he knows. One way to stop the burning of his throat once he’s breathing air.

His kind rely on the Maker. Mixing ingredients and magic. A permanent spell over the ocean allowing his kind to find safe nutrients in water and sea plants - as humans have already taken more than their fare share of the fish. Spells for strength and spells for knowledge, speed, courage, everything one can think of. But they will only work if the intentions are good and true.

Kurt knows with all his heart that his intention is good and true. There’s a human above the surface that thinks he’s _beautiful_ , that wants to know his name, and isn’t that more than anything down here?

He’s granted with a small pearl and he holds it tightly as he swims to the surface with a newfound urgency.

Placing it on his tongue, swallowing it down and then pushing towards the surface, he breaks free above the water, gasping for air. He can’t keep his smile at bay, tries to force his mouth back into a line only to have it flip upwards, grinning as he swims closer to the shore.

He’s going to speak his first words soon. And they’re going to be to Blaine.

Carefully making his way around his rock, peeking around the corner and peering at the sandy shore, he sees it’s nearly deserted. Except for the figure splashing in the water, with darkened skin and strong muscles. The figure turns around and Kurt is already swimming quickly in his direction.

Never knew Blaine existed until some time ago but now - now he has his face imprinted in his memory.

He’s not clothed like yesterday. At least not over his chest. And he isn’t sure why but seeing his flat stomach and rounded arms, he feels another new sense of urgency swirling in his gut.

Under water he can see the bottoms of Blaine’s legs, and he swims faster and pokes his head out.

Blaine jumps, yells out, “Jesus!”

Kurt smiles wider, turns his head to the side. 

“It’s you! Oh thank goodness, I was starting to think you weren’t real, or that I hit my head.”

Kurt drags himself up and sits so the water is right above his middle. He brings his tail up and slaps it down against the water so he’s splashing Blaine, thinks, _of course I’m real, you guppy._

Blaine shields his face and laughs, kicking water at Kurt. And Kurt feels his heart thud happily in his chest. Breathing has never felt like _this_ before.

They swim to the rock together, and when Kurt tries to pull himself up Blaine extends a hand out to him. He grabs it, squeezes his fingers, and because humans are very strange creatures that he’ll never understand, he shakes it.

Blaine stares at him, wide eyes, and laughs, gripping Kurt’s hand harder before tugging.

And he can’t even think to feel the hot flush of shame because Blaine’s laugh is strumming at his insides.

“I couldn’t sleep at all. I stayed up and sat on the patio and pinched myself over and over.”

Kurt quirks an eyebrow at him, curious tilt of the head.

Blaine only looks confused for a split second before smiling again, explaining, “To prove that I wasn’t dreaming.”

Kurt nods. He understands dreams. He has dreams. Muted colours and sounds, never being able to reach the surface but faintly making out the blue sky. But he could never build Blaine up in his dreams, he’s too . . . he’s nothing like the muted colours and sounds.

He lets Blaine talk for a while, mostly because he’s spent a large passage of time replaying his voice in his head that he’d hate to interrupt.

But then Blaine is slowly holding a hand out, eyes dragging up to meet Kurt’s before looking back to his tail, and Kurt knows what he wants. Nodding his head, he gives a small smile.

Blaine runs his fingers over the edge of his tail, starting from where his hip bone starts and down until he can’t reach. His eyes grow wide, amazed, and his mouth falls open as he tries to say something, but nothing comes out - Kurt can relate.

“Wow, you are - that’s -” Blaine exhales, dragging his fingers down carefully. “Don’t hate me, but I expected it to be slimy.”

Kurt makes a face, brings his own hand down to run over the silver scales.

“It’s beautiful.”

And maybe they’re looking at two different tails, maybe they see different colours, because Kurt shakes his head quickly, lets out a disapproving noise.

Then his throat doesn’t burn, doesn’t sting, and he whispers, “It’s nothing.”

Both of their eyes fly open, and Blaine makes a scared sort of shriek, the supporting hand behind him slipping.

Leaning on his elbow now, peering up at Kurt, the rapid rise of his chest visible, Blaine says, “You - you -” Hurling himself into a sitting position, then says to his hands, “- breathe, Blaine, breath - you -”

And Kurt has heard the sounds he can make, but has never heard himself speak the human language. He keeps his eyes wide on the water, touches his throat, swallows just to feel.

“B-Blaine,” he tries, throat moving under his fingertips. “Blaine.”

“That’s - that’s my name, you’re saying my name, goodness gracious -”

“Blaine.”

Inside there’s a warmth he’s never felt before bursting open.

“What’s yours? Can you say it?” Blaine asks, surging forward, body pressing closer to Kurt’s.

Up close his eyes are sparkling, and Kurt knows his name but looking at him like this and he suddenly doesn’t know what it is.

“. . . Kurt . .”

Blaine’s expression never shifts, still close, and he breathes out hard, breathes in, whispers back, “Kurt.”

Kurt can’t keep his tail from giving an excited flick in the water. Bubbles and bubbles of warm happiness fill him and energy wants to shine out of every limb, and all he can do is smile at him.

“That’s a very beautiful name,” Blaine says, and then his eyes are back to traveling from his face to his tail. “Everything about you is so . . .”

Kurt pulls his shoulders up, bunches his hands and rests them on the body of his tail, shrugging. “It-it’s nothing.”

“Please don’t say that.”

He clears his throat, coughs even though there is no pain, and stares down at his tail. A large split fin at the bottom, small, feathery ones slightly above it. Starting off silver, tiny metallic scales that taper off into blue, then ending in pure navy.

He knows why Blaine must think that, since he’s never seen another of his kind before. But if he did, well, he’d never look at Kurt the same way again. His tail is like the night sky but - the others, with scales the colour of gold coins and fins the pink of a sunset.

He hates that it aches deep down inside.

Blaine’s hand is over his, fingers locking. “Kurt, I know that we’re not - we’ve seen different things. But, um, I think you’re the most beautiful thing _I’ve_ ever seen, so, yeah, uh -”

His tail might not be the pink of a sunset, but his face sure is. A wide grin takes over, and he lets out a small laugh, twisting his body a little.

Kurt makes himself look at Blaine and thinks, thinks, because Blaine is definitely the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, but he doesn’t know how to say that. So instead, hand turning Blaine’s over and tracing a circle in his palm, he says, “Blaine.”

-

To his dismay, he doesn’t dream when he sleeps. He had hopes that they would be filled with Blaine and his laugh and his voice and his touch. So when he wakes up, dread tightly wound up in his chest, he swims out of the kingdom and straight for the surface.

The sky is almost completely black and sparkling when his head comes out of the water. Down in the deep they don’t exactly have night or day, and he thinks humans sleep when the sun is down because their voices fade off into a faint whisper.

He slowly moves to the rocks and sits, waits, and when the sun begins to rise in the corner of the sky he feels himself truly awaken.

Waits, pets his seagull friend (who leaves him when he realizes Kurt hasn’t brought him food), and tries to calm himself.

And when the boats begin to travel out into the sea, far off in the distance, and birds cry out in the air, he hears faint splashing, and if his heart wasn’t beating mad before it certainly is now.

“Good morning, Kurt,” Blaine greets him, morning sun on his face as he wades through the water towards the rock.

“Blaine,” Kurt says back, can never stop saying it.

“I haven’t even had coffee yet.” Blaine sits down, yawns into his elbow, kicks one leg down into the water. “I don’t think you understand how much that means.”

“Coffee?”

Blaine nods. “We drink it when we’re tired.”

“What do you drink when you’re not tired?”

And Blaine makes a face like Kurt just questioned him about the depths of the ocean, brow scrunching together. “Good question. But enough about where I’m from. I want to hear all about your world.”

Kurt thinks about the green-blue-black darkness of where he comes from. He doesn’t see what could be so interesting about it.

“It’s deep in the water,” he finally says, dragging his tail through the surface, sunlight reflecting off his scales. “Very deep. Like a castle.”

“Like with a king and all that?”

“Rulers, yes.”

Blaine leans over the edge, puts his hand in the water and swirls it around. “That’s incredible. Way down there . . .” He sits back up, looks at Kurt. “How in the world do you see?”

Kurt laughs, narrows his eyes at him, says like it’s obvious, “The same way you do here?”

Blaine sighs out, rolls his eyes. “I mean - in the dark.”

“Oh.” Then says like this should be even more obvious, “Magic.”

It’s then that Blaine completely flops backwards, kicks his legs into the water next to Kurt’s tail, and sighs again. “This is too much to handle - didn’t even get _coffee_ -”

Humans have drinks like coffee that help keep them awake and humans wear fabrics over their bodies and Kurt - Kurt can hardly understand any of those concepts, so he doesn’t understand what’s so fascinating about the world beneath the water.

“Do other mermaids visit the surface, too?”

And humans use terms like mermaids. Weird, weird creatures . . .

“Yes! We love the sun!” Kurt exclaims happily, raising his face towards the light. “Except I’m the only one who comes this close to touching your shores. The rest don’t dare leave the center.”

Blaine laughs, keeps his eyes locked on Kurt’s face, and Kurt feels that familiar heat that settles into his every nerve when Blaine looks at him like that.

“And why do you?”

He thinks, leans back and spots a flying seagull, listens to its cry. The wind doesn’t carry as many voices today - or at least, he thinks it doesn’t. Maybe he’s only focused on one right now.

“I love your voices.”

He can still sense Blaine staring at him, squirms under his gaze, and then pushes himself down until most of his tail is back in the water, turns onto his belly.

Blaine continues to look and look until he blinks, snaps, and jerks his body back into a full sitting position. “This is going to sound like an incredibly dumb question, but - are you mortal enemies with like, dolphins? Sharks?”

In the water his tail swishes happily, water spraying up at Blaine. “All fish are family, Blaine.”

“And what about friends? Is your best friend a flounder like - nevermind, you wouldn’t - are you friends with them?”

Blaine’s gaze is open on him, warm, waiting and - he feels a stab to his middle, feels cold, dark water pour into him. Feels like it’s weighing him down, sinking, sinking, and how was it only seconds ago that he felt like flying - ?

“I-I . . .” The urge to pull himself down and surround himself in blackness is burning at his core. “Yes. They’re my friends.”

And he doesn’t want to lie but apparently loneliness isn’t something humans experience.

What else do humans not experience? He jerks his head up, leans up on his arms and pushes himself closer to Blaine. “I want to hear about your world.”

Blaine twists and peers over the rock, looks to the shore, then back to Kurt. “What do you want to know? It’s nothing compared to yours.”

“You could tell me more about coffee?” Kurt tries, blinks up at Blaine. “Or what a vacation is?”

He isn’t expecting Blaine’s burst of laughter, and he hunches his shoulders, pushes himself further into the water.

“Okay, sure,” Blaine says, smiles. “We can start there.”

Blaine pulls him back up so they’re side by side, and then dives into various explanations. Apparently coffee is a drink made from a bean that Blaine takes with something called milk. And apparently a vacation means to go away, to relax, and Kurt likes to think that his visits with Blaine are like vacations, too.

As he talks, Kurt finds it difficult to pay attention when Blaine’s legs shift and kick, as his feet swirl in the water. Soon he’s so entranced with the muscles that he can’t stop himself from reaching out, touching one.

“Oh,” he gasps, pressing his hand. “It’s so . . hard.”

Blaine’s grin stretches across his face. “Nowhere near as cool as a tail.”

“No-no, this is -” he cuts himself off, feeling something prickling under his fingers. “You have hair - there?”

Blaine nods, pulling one leg up to his chest.

He looks back to Blaine’s legs, lets his hands run up, up, until he’s stroking the large expanse below his hips.

“Is it hard? To walk on these things?”

And when Blaine laughs, he doesn’t flinch, just smiles along with it.

“It tends to come naturally to most, I assume.”

“And what else can you do with them?”

Blaine then stretches both his legs out, causing Kurt’s hand to slip further up, but he doesn’t move it. “Lots of things. Running, dancing, kicking . .”

And then Kurt’s fingers trail along the fabric that Blaine wears. Bright blue and wet, clinging to his legs.

He feels slightly foolish to be asking, but he’s too curious not to. “And why do you wear these?”

“Shorts?”

“Whatever they’re called.”

He bunches part of the fabric between his fingers, pushes it up Blaine’s leg.

When he looks up he notices how red Blaine has gotten. And they haven’t been in the sun that long, so he must be - he must -

“Blaine?”

“Um, we, uh, humans wear clothes to - to cover parts we don’t want shown.”

“Parts?”

Blaine coughs, hits himself in the chest, sits up even straighter and moves his legs from under Kurt. “Yeah, like - oh god - do your kind have . . . genitalia?”

“No, I don’t know what that is,” Kurt starts, slipping the tips of his fingers under the hem of the fabric. “Do your kind ever show it to people?”

Blaine is choking now, face burning. “- sometimes -”

“Can I -” He feels every breath he takes cling to the inside of his lungs, can’t get it out. Heat that isn’t from the sun warming all the way up his neck, his face, the tips of his ears. “Can I touch -”

And he doesn’t get an answer before he’s snaking his left hand up Blaine’s leg, over the fabric, and brushing his palm over the part that Blaine is apparently hiding.

Years of hearing human voices through the water, in the wind, but he has never heard a noise like the one Blaine makes. He gasps out, loud, almost like a cry.

Kurt retracts his hand immediately, eyes flying up to Blaine’s face. “Blaine!”

Blaine rests his weight on his elbows, inches himself back up the rock.

“Did I hurt you?”

“No! No, no, that’s not -” Blaine breathes in deep, eyes hard on Kurt, and Kurt slinks back into the water, peeking over the edge of the rock.

“I’m sorry for asking so much.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

“But . . . what is that?”

And Blaine drops his head back, stares up at the sky. “Weren’t we just talking about coffee - ?”

“Blaine?”

He sighs, doesn’t look back down, says, “That’s my . . . it’s . .”

“You’re red.”

“ - I wasn’t expecting to have this conversation -”

“You don’t have to tell me.”

“- some boys have -”

“Can I see it?”

Blaine shoots up, rocketing forward until his face is hovering above Kurt’s. “Kurt, may I ask you a question?”

Kurt nods, dips himself lower so his chin hits the water, eyes up at him.

“How do your kind . . how do your kind procreate?”

He’s certainly never heard that word before, but he thinks he knows what it could mean. “As in, produce offspring?”

“Yeah,” Blaine says, nodding his head quickly.

Even with most of his body under water he still feels _hot_. And he lifts one eyebrow up, head turning to the side, shoots Blaine a confused look. “Um, magic?”

When Blaine laughs it doesn’t sound as bright, as if he’s not even laughing at anything funny. “Right.”

“When two people are in love, and their love is proved worthy, they are gifted with the magic of an egg.”

“An egg - ?”

“Only the truest, purest love, of course.”

“Yeah, _of course_.”

“I’m assuming that’s not how you produce offspring up here?”

When Blaine laughs this time Kurt is sure it’s humourless.

“No, not quite.” And then Blaine is coughing again, fist to his chest. “So, down there, anybody can fall in love?”

Kurt frowns, not following. “That’s correct . . .”

“Like boys with boys . . girls with girls?”

“We don’t have those.”

Blaine lifts his head back to the sky, breathes harsh through his nose.

“We don’t have different kinds like you humans do. At least, I don’t think we do,” Kurt explains, thinking about it. “All we have is love.”

At this, Blaine turns his head back down, red faded from his skin, eyes soft on him.

“Oh - that’s kind of amazing.”

Kurt doesn’t understand what he means, why he looks like that, but he flushes anyways. He’s had enough of the conversation, so he wraps a hand around the bottom part of Blaine’s leg and pulls.

“Lets swim.”

-

He visits Blaine everyday that he can. When water falls from the sky and grey clouds hang above them he still visits, and Blaine will venture out and sit on the shore wearing even more clothing than before. He sits and laughs and yells out when Kurt tries to splash him.

_It’s just water, Blaine._

_It’s cold, Kurt._

Blaine tells him his friends and family on land are questioning his constant disappearing. Kurt doesn’t tell him that nobody questions his. And one day, when the sun is beginning to fade and they’re side by side on their rock, Blaine says, “Summer vacation is almost over . .”

And Kurt doesn’t know what that means, but Blaine doesn’t explain any further.

Sometimes other humans will come to the shore, play in the sand, laugh with Blaine and run with Blaine and do everything that Kurt can’t with Blaine.

On those days Kurt stays away.

He can’t ever hold onto hurt though, because the days that Kurt gets to spend hours with him make it disappear.

He brings a book one day, teaching Kurt the symbols, the words, the stories. There’s always something new about the world beyond the sand. And Blaine never gets frustrated when Kurt has at least ten questions to every word he says.

Below the water there are millions of creatures, each different than the last. But Blaine - he wonders if all humans are like him. He doesn’t think so, because there’s no possible way anybody else could be so warm, so happy, so full of life. A sea full of millions of creatures, Kurt included, but nothing like Blaine.

Blaine never stops looking at the water like it’s the finest crystal, a rare jewel. And even though Kurt insists that the ocean is truly a dark place, he decides to bring Blaine a gift.

“Close your eyes,” Kurt instructs, keeping one arm on the ledge of the rock and one under the water.

Blaine complies, smiles, says, “Kurt - what are you -”

“Open.”

Blaine looks, squints, and then his eyes are wide and his mouth falls open as he reaches out. “Kurt . .”

Kurt holds up a shell the size of his palm, turquoise on the outside, lined with gold. His most treasured seashell, the brightest in his collection. Still not as breathtaking as Blaine is, so does Kurt really need it . . . ?

“That’s - that’s beautiful.”

“It’s for you.”

Blaine’s eyes expand, line of his back straightening and he shakes his head, gently pushes Kurt’s hand away. “I can’t accept that.”

“Why not?” Kurt asks, pushing back, bottom lip sticking out as needles of hurt poke his side.

“I don’t have anything to give _you_. Nothing that’s even remotely close to _this_ -”

Kurt dips himself lower into the water, lets it cover his shoulders and pass his ears. “I don’t need anything.”

The next day, when he meets Blaine by the shore, Blaine is holding a bag.

“I couldn’t decide on anything special to give you, because, well, nothing cool like that exists up here,” Blaine tells him, rifling through the bag. “But these are some of my favourite things, so hopefully you like them and -”

Kurt grabs the bag from his hand, pulling it onto his lap, fingers trying to work out the knot of the string that ties it.

When he finally gets it open he peers in, pulls out a long strip of fabric. “What in the world is this? What part could this possibly cover?”

Blaine laughs loudly, head tipped back, and takes it from Kurt’s fingers, works it around in his hand.

“This is a bowtie.”

Kurt glares at him, lift of his eyebrow, and shrugs his shoulders.

“It’s an . . . accessory. Do you have those?”

“Yes, but none that look as silly as that,” Kurt laughs, softly, taking it back from Blaine.

Blaine nudges him in the side with his elbow, and Kurt takes out the next thing in the bag. A silver band with a dial in the middle.

“My favourite watch.”

Kurt slips it over his hand and dangles it on his wrist.

Next is a small rock, white and jagged, and Blaine tells him it’s lucky.

“I apologize for how lame these all are, I just - wanted you to always have a piece of me . . but it’s unbelievable how many things would get ruined in the ocean.”

And he thinks, not everything would get ruined . . .

Kurt shakes his head, darts his eyes to him, and holds the bowtie and the rock close to his chest. “No, I love them.”

Then something comes alive in Blaine’s eyes and he sits up, reaches into his pocket. “Oh! My phone.”

Kurt stares at the object in his hand. He has no idea what that is.

“What does it . . . do?”

“Oh, lots of things. You can call people in other places, send them messages, take pictures . . .”

Kurt takes it, lifts it to his mouth. “I could talk to you when I’m not with you by using this?”

“Well, yes, but -”

Kurt immediately tightens his grip on it, holds it away from Blaine.

“But Kurt, it would break in the water.”

Turning away from Blaine, he looks down at it, presses a small round button on the bottom. It lights up, and Kurt almost jumps as a view of the sunset appears on it.

He doesn’t understand why humans would create something like this if they can’t use it under water. He shoves it back in Blaine’s direction and folds his arms tightly across himself. “What’s even the point of it then?”

Blaine chuckles, face pulled into an amused expression, and nudges Kurt again.

“It also plays music,” Blaine says, fiddling with the phone, pressing buttons too quick for Kurt to follow. And then the silent shore is overwhelmed with a blaring noise, and Kurt jerks where he’s sitting, hands clawing into the sand.

He’s heard human music before. Heard their songs. But never so close, and never so loud.

“That’s incredible. How do they get the voices in there?”

Blaine scrunches his face, hits another button, mumbles, “Our version of magic, I guess.”

He plays Kurt various songs, tells him which ones are his favourites, mouths along to the words.

Eventually Kurt turns to his belly, rests his arms on Blaine’s legs and stares up at him as he plays him music.

He seems to know all the words, waves his hands in the air as if he were playing some sort of instrument. And Kurt loves his voice, so he thinks, and he asks, “Blaine, can you sing for me?”

Down in the water, where they can’t speak words, they can sing songs. Notes and sounds, nothing like the music Blaine plays. But down there, to sing directly to another, it requires a piece of your heart. The truest of intentions.

Blaine looks down to where Kurt is laying, pauses the song playing from his phone. “I’m not that good . . .”

“Blaine, you’ll be the first I hear.”

He turns red, looks away, stares at the afternoon sun. “Good point.”

He coughs, doesn’t meet Kurt’s eyes, and then hits a button and begins to mumble the words as a song plays. Eventually, though, as Kurt stares up at him, pressing his smile into his arms, Blaine actually sings.

And Kurt thinks, all of his life until now, there must have been a dormant part to his heart. He feels it beat ten times heavier, slow, blood pulsing.

When the song ends, Blaine won’t look at him. Blushes and stares at the sand, and Kurt is sure the wind is carrying the sound of his loud heartbeat because that’s all he can hear now.

“Not that good . . .” Blaine mumbles.

Kurt pushes himself up onto his arms, hauls himself up along Blaine’s body, and when he can’t hold himself up any longer he collapses next to him, breathes against his neck, his face.

And his throat doesn’t hurt but he can’t say any words, and he presses in, lips to Blaine’s. And Blaine only has to blink before he’s pressing back.

It’s a kiss. He’s not human but of course he knows what a kiss is. His fin lifts, slaps down, fingers shaking over Blaine’s chest. It’s so hard to breathe, he can’t, he doesn’t want to. Just wants Blaine, and Blaine holds the side of his face, lips parting gently against his.

He doesn’t pull away, keeps himself close to Blaine, and looks at him.

He feels it everywhere. He knows he doesn’t need any of the gifts Blaine has given him, not if he has this.

Feels it everywhere so he decides, knows it, every nerve in his body shouting it.

“I want to sing to you.”

One of Blaine’s eyebrows twitch, head tilting. “. . okay.”

“Not now,” Kurt continues, using whatever strength he has to lift away from Blaine. “Tonight. Will you meet me tonight?”

Blaine nods and sits up as Kurt slips away. “Of course.”

It’s then that Kurt feels hot and red, over his shoulders and his chest. “Okay . . until then.”

Grabbing the bag and flinging himself back into the water, he swims away, which is proving to be the hardest thing he’s ever had to do.

-

He plans out what he’s going to sing. They don’t use words, and it’s possible that Blaine won’t understand, but this is what he has to do. He has never felt so much before. And he should have known when he first saw him that it would lead to this - because his heart is aching, yelling at him, _why didn’t you act sooner?_

But Kurt has now. And he knows what he feels and he knows that it’s true and he needs to prove it.

He breaks through the surface, breathing in the fresh ocean air as the pink-orange sky overhead is beginning to fade to green-blue.

It’s difficult to breathe when his heart is choosing to skip every other beat, an echoing thud in his chest, but he pushes through it. If he could, he’s sure he’d drown.

From where Kurt is in the ocean, the shore looks deserted. He stops swimming, lifts his head higher, tries to see and adjust to the sudden light after being in the dark. But he knows what Blaine looks like, even from afar, and he can’t see him.

A breeze ripples over the ocean, and in the air Kurt can’t hear a single voice.

Diving back under the water, he swims closer, heavy heart bringing him down.

When he surfaces, and silence is all that greets him, he’s sure - he’s going to drown.

The sun is setting in the distance, soon it will be night.

And Kurt waits. An entire life of not knowing Blaine - of course he can wait.

And he waits until the sun disappears, dark sky overhead suggesting that it never existed in the first place.

His heart hardens until it’s a stone in his chest. Kurt places a hand over it, digs his fingers in, and when something pricks at his eyes he feels stinging unlike anything he’s ever felt before.

Doesn’t he know? Doesn’t he remember that when the sun fades he is to meet Kurt? So Kurt can sing his _love_ -

Kurt squeezes his eyes closed, ignores the burning, and doesn’t fight out his breath. All he feels is the pulling and sinking and he doesn’t understand - he hates that he never understands humans.

Kurt can’t handle it anymore - he doesn’t want to hurt - so he slips back under the water, swims away as fast as he can.

-

He waits until the sun has risen and set again before he returns to the surface.

Heart now a dull, aching throb, he holds the possessions Blaine had given him. He wants to keep them more than anything, but if Blaine had taken the other gift away, then it isn’t right to hold on . .

When the shore comes into view he feels his chest crack, eyes stinging. He goes to the rock, and lines the items high up the surface. There’s a chance Blaine won’t even check. And why would he?

Before he dives back down, he looks back to the shore. He was going to sing to Blaine, as to sing for one is to love them.

And he doesn’t understand why Blaine doesn’t _know_ that.

-

The days without his voice are torture. He can hear a faint whisper in the back of his mind, but it’s fading. And fear is gripping him in a fist, and he doesn’t want to forget, he only wants the pain to stop.

He misses him so much it nearly masks the hurt living inside of him.

All he thinks about, all he wants.

All he wants, and it’s not fair. It’s not fair to cause pain like that without explanation. And Kurt won’t dare feel it without a good reason. Ignoring the sinking stone that is his heart, he pushes himself to the surface, swims to the shore.

It’s daytime, the sun behind a cloud, and maybe Blaine won’t be there but he doesn’t care, he’ll wait.

The items are gone, the rock cleared. The shore empty.

He sits on the wet line of sand, and waits, and feels more and more hopeless as time passes.

But waiting and waiting and hoping to hear that voice - to latch on to the memory - and as soon as he hears it, hopes comes alive in his still heart.

“Kurt!” Blaine calls out, dashing down the hill of sand. “Oh thank - Kurt -”

Soft sound of feet on sand until Blaine is right next to him, collapsing. Hands are on his shoulders, pulling at him, and all the hurt that’s been building is suddenly mixed with relief - happiness.

Oh, he’s never been so happy to see anything before.

Blaine’s eyes are blown wide, frantic, hands running up and down his arms. “Where have you been - ?”

He says nothing, looks to the water.

“I found my things on the rock and I thought - geez, I don’t know what I thought and -”

Blaine stills his hands, then brings one up so he can lift Kurt’s chin, makes him look at him. “And I went out to find you that night but you weren’t there.”

He swallows, blinks, fights the pins that stab his eyes. “You didn’t -” His voice cracks, throat pulsing with a new kind of pain. “You didn’t show.”

Blaine’s grip loosens until his hand disappears completely. “No, Kurt -”

“I don’t understand, Blaine. I thought you -”

He doesn’t finish his sentence because in that moment he realizes how ridiculous it sounds.

“Let me explain,” Blaine rushes out, gaze pinned to Kurt’s face. “My friend wouldn’t leave me alone, he was going to come and - and I didn’t want him to know about - I didn’t want him to see you.”

Kurt forces his chin up, pins Blaine with a look.

“Is he your - do you -”

He doesn’t know how to phrase it - they don’t use those terms, they don’t love like humans do.

His fin flicks weakly against the water, and the bones lining his upper body suddenly feel like air.

“Kurt, of course not,” Blaine sighs, reaching for one of Kurt’s hands. “I only wanted you.”

I love you.

He doesn’t say it, because he can’t prove it. They don’t love like humans do.

For one split second he feels the shards of his heart pulse but - but then Blaine is biting on his lip, looking down at the tide lapping at their legs.

“But I’ve been trying to come up with a way to tell you this, Kurt. So please believe me when I say it isn’t easy.”

Kurt tries to tug his hand out of Blaine’s but Blaine grips harder. “Blaine.”

“You know, I won’t be here for much longer.”

“ _Blaine,_ ” Kurt pleads, shaking his hand free.

“And you - you’re a mermaid, Kurt.”

I love you. I love you. How do I prove it I love you -

“ _No_.”

He brings his hand to his chest, cradles it with the other, hunches in and he wishes his heart were stone again because it feels like it’s being struck with a blade right now.

Blaine’s hands fall on top of his shoulders, slide down to his arms, fingers curling tight. “I always wanted you to be real. I just - I never thought this would - I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

Days ago his favourite thing was Blaine’s voice but now he wants it to stop. He should have never come. He doesn’t want an explanation if the explanation is _this_.

“But I have to leave soon, Kurt. And you have to stay here.”

“I-I, Blaine, I -” His throat won’t work and it hurts and even though the one thing he wants to say is the truest in the world he can’t do it.

“We can’t.”

Using strength he doesn’t possess, Kurt tears his body away, shaking his head, mind working on a track of the three words he needs to say. Couldn’t say them if he had the ability to because Blaine says they _can’t_.

“Kurt, wait -” Blaine is calling out, standing to his feet and crashing into the shallow water, but Kurt’s already under, swimming blindly.

-

The ocean is somehow darker.

Kurt never looks towards the surface, keeping low to the ocean floor. He knows this world is large, that it contains millions of souls, and he’s sure the break of his heart could be audible for miles.

He sings, never meaning to, but the pain has sunk so far into his body that he needs to get it _out_. Somehow, someway -

It doesn’t work.

He closes his eyes and sees the sun, feels the sun, feels Blaine, and he only hurts more.

His songs don’t make sense, stripped of heart and filled with the endless void of hurt. Years ago, when he was too young to understand, his father once sung the same way.

A voice once so lively turned grey, soulless, fading.

His father never liked humans. They created a poison and infected the ocean - and Kurt was too young to understand but he knows now that’s the reason his mother disappeared.

And because of that, he knows now that’s the reason for his father’s vanishing.

Love that strong, love that lives in every heartbeat, every song - when it breaks, every part of you breaks until you are nothing. Until you can no longer live . .

The moment Blaine had said those two words; _We can’t._

That was the moment he felt his heart split into two separate pieces. And now, he thinks, the rest of him is beginning to disappear, too.

Magic works around love, and when that love breaks . .

It takes what must be days for Kurt to piece his shattered mind together, to gather his strength and go. He can’t disappear, he can’t hurt, he doesn’t want to forget but he doesn’t want this pain. It never ends, refreshing bright in his heart; a repeated stab.

Magic can end it. He finds the Maker, and he remembers all too clearly the anticipation of the last exchange, and now he feels dread.

He doesn’t want to forget - and could this pain be bearable for the rest of his life if he gets to keep his memory of Blaine?

He pleads, he begs, he wishes with all his heart to stop himself from breaking.

The Maker looks at him, dark eyes in darker water, and says without words;

_There is a love alive inside of you._

A golden pearl is placed in his hand.

Kurt knows without being told what’s been granted, and he closes his hand tightly.

_Prove it is true._

Kurt swims faster than he ever has before. To the surface, to the daylight waiting -

He will never have to dream of green-black darkness again.

-

Magic works around love, Kurt knows this. He knows this because - he must have loved Blaine long before he realized.

Why didn’t you act sooner?

Swallowing the pearl, he feels nothing. Swims and swims and once his head breaks the surface, first breath of air, he feels suddenly weightless.

That familiar tug of heaviness is gone, a memory, a phantom feeling as he kicks - as he kicks his legs.

A bubble of energy explodes in his chest, his stomach swooping low, dropping, and he kicks harder, arms thrashing. Maybe he should have waited until he could touch the ground before freeing himself of his tail but - he almost cries out, can’t keep it in any longer.

He has legs he has legs he has _legs._

He’s gasping for air like never before once he passes their rock.

And along the shore, sitting with his toes in the water, is Blaine.

Resisting the urge to yell and clap, anything to get his attention, Kurt dives under. Swims along the ocean floor as best he can, swims until he can see Blaine’s feet, swims and swims until he can’t hold his breath any longer.

Just before reaching him, a small distance between them, he lifts only his head out of the water.

“Blaine,” he gasps, struggles to get his heart back to a normal pace.

And Blaine - yells out, falls back to his hands, feet kicking and pushing at the sand. “Holy - Kurt!”

“. . hello.”

Blaine runs a hand through his hair, looks to the sky and exhales loudly. “Kurt, thank the lord, you have incredible timing - _Kurt_ -”

“Blaine.” Because even with human legs and possibly a human throat, it’s all he can say.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry - Kurt, I’m so sorry,” Blaine continues, and Kurt thinks there are tears shining in his eyes. “Everyone left yesterday but I _couldn’t_ and I was hoping you’d come back so I could say -”

“Blaine,” Kurt cuts him off, voice urgent. He’s never taken a single step before, and his new muscles feel like they’re made of seaweed, but a wave of strength shoots through him, and he digs the bends of his legs into the sand. “Look.”

His pulse is loud in his ears, arms locking up as he leans forward on them, and he extends his legs until they go straight, so he has his feet in the water and his hands on the shoreline.

Bringing one leg up past the other, bending it and pushing so the other leg can meet it. His arms are shaking too hard and he can’t lean on them anymore, and his new limbs are liquid, but he pushes off the sand so he’s half standing.

And then his entire body is too heavy and the world is crashing around him as he falls on top of Blaine.

Blaine’s body under his, strong and lean.

Blaine’s eyes are two wide circles, and they are definitely shining with tears now, and his mouth falls open but no words come out, only sounds that don’t make sense.

He waits, waits, smiles at Blaine, feels so light headed that he could pass out but -

Blaine _yells_. Shouts loudly into the sky, and his hands land on Kurt’s back, pressing into his skin, before he trails them further down and rests them on his hips.

“Kurt -”

Kurt nods excitedly, wet hair flopping over his forehead. “I did -”

“Kurt!” Blaine cries, and his hands lift off of Kurt’s hips and take hold of his face, cupping his jaw. “How - how did you - I can’t believe this -”

“Should I pinch you?”

“Please!”

Kurt laughs, feels his whole body shake with it, and he drops his head to Blaine’s chest, breathes in deep. He lets Blaine’s hands roam over him, presses his legs between Blaine’s, savouring the feeling of his weight underneath him.

Hands on his face again, Blaine makes Kurt look up. “How did you - ?”

Kurt’s lips split into a smile, soft and glowing, and he says, “Magic works around love.”

And then, leaning down, face right above Blaine’s, “And I love you, Blaine.”

There is a stretch of time, that in reality is only mere seconds but Kurt thinks it’s an eternity, before Blaine locks onto his gaze and says with perfect clarity, “ I love you, too.” and kisses him.

-

With a red face and eyes that wander everywhere but Kurt’s legs, Blaine gives him his shirt to cover with. And when he looks down he realizes what humans have under their clothing that they want to keep hidden.

Blaine helps him back to his home, arm around his middle, slow, shaky steps.

And even though every step feels like he’s going to fall through the ground, once they make it up the hill of sand, up onto a higher level, Kurt’s heart stops in his chest.

He looks over Blaine’s shoulder at all the homes, each one different than the last.

Blaine lives close, and he helps him up the steps.

“One second,” Blaine mumbles, fishing around in his pocket before retrieving a small metal object, using it in the door.

And when he helps Kurt inside, Kurt just about collapses to the floor. He doesn’t know what to look at first. Items upon items that belong to an entirely different world and Kurt wants to explore _everything_.

But that, combined with the weakness in his limbs, sends Kurt spiraling down, and Blaine grabs him with both arms and guides him through the house.

“Hey, Kurt, just breathe. I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“There’s so much -” Kurt gasps, hands grabbing at the surface that Blaine has set him down on.

He decides to start with his legs, extending them out, finally getting to actually look at them. Long and pale, hairless, and in the sunlight pouring in from the glass, he notices a silver shimmer.

All the way up his sides there are scales, faded into his skin.

And he knows, fully understands now what the Maker had meant.

“It’s not for forever,” he says, hands running over the tops of his legs. “Not yet.”

“Do you want . . to make it permanent?” Blaine sits next to him, hand on his back. “A lot will change.”

“More than anything.”

“And how do you make it permanent?”

Kurt holds his breath, thinks it over, lets it out. “We have to prove true love.”

Looking at him, mind working, his song distant in his memory.

“I never got to sing for you, Blaine. That’s how you show love in my world,” he explains, slowly. “How do you show it here?”

Blaine swallows, hands drumming along the tops of his legs, and looks to the wall opposite them. “Well, we could kiss.”

Frustration flares through his heart, and he crosses his arms, says, “We’ve done that. What else? I want this to last.”

It’s then that Blaine turns pink, face flooded with colour, and he stares at his lap, nervous fingers clenching and unclenching.

“There’s, um, we could - there’s sex, but - you just got legs, Kurt.”

And the frustration digs in deep, grips his heart, and tears form behind his eyes. He wants to yell out, wants to cry. He loves him so much and he doesn’t know what to do with it, how to prove it, he wants him he loves him -

“Blaine, I love you, please -” He turns to face him directly, shifts so he’s on his knees. “Show me how to prove it, please.”

Blaine rests his hands on the curve of his hips, presses him down so he sits back on his legs. “It’s a lot to take in, Kurt.”

“We don’t have _time_.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

“I _love_ you.”

“Okay.” Blaine’s fingers spread out over his skin, and he nods, pushing at him so he falls to his side. “Okay. We’ll start slow.”

He doesn’t have the power to do anything except nod.

“Come here,” Blaine orders, hooking his fingers under the shirt and pulling it off.

Anything Blaine wants, anything he says, he’ll do.

Blaine wraps his arms around him, hands on his back, and pulls him closer until their lips are meeting again.

And then Blaine’s tongue slips out, touches his lip, and Kurt opens his eyes to stare at him but Blaine seems to think this is normal, so he opens his mouth, lets Blaine deepen the kiss.

Then Blaine’s hands travel down his back, over his hips, sliding along until he’s grabbing the bend of Kurt’s legs, pulling, and Kurt falls back to the bed.

They never break the kiss, Blaine leaning on his chest, and Kurt can’t breathe but he can make noises, and he gasps against Blaine’s mouth, hands reaching for his hair.

Blaine pulls away, slowly, and his fingers dance over the scales. He moves back, hands pushing his legs apart.

“Kurt,” Blaine says, voice dark, hot, and Kurt has to force in a breath. “I’m going to touch you here.”

His hands glide over the smooth expanse of skin, over his pale thighs, thumbs swiping at his hip bones.

The corners of his mouth lift, and his eyes are burning brightly when he looks into Kurt’s.

“Here,” he says, fingers over his chest.

“Here.” Over the sides of his stomach, working down.

“And here.” His right hand gently strokes up the length of Kurt, a simple brush of his fingers, then pulls away.

It’s more than enough, and Kurt arches up, cries out. “You - you never told me what that is.”

Blaine lets out a laugh, face scrunched up. “Lets go with, um, cock, for now -”

He’s never heard such a strange word, but he doesn’t laugh because Blaine is touching it again, fingers like silk around him.

Blaine leans over, brushing his lips over his collarbones, down down, over his ribcage.

“And you can touch me, too,” Blaine adds, hands working at the material covering his legs until they’re off.

Gasping, melted into the bed, Kurt looks up and asks, “And that - that’s what love is?”

His eyes fall to the area that Blaine always covered, dark and hard and red, and he doesn’t understand _parts_ but he feels a slow burn in his stomach from looking at it.

“It’s what people in love can do.”

The burn in his stomach shoots up, captures his heart, and sudden need, sudden want - is fired down every nerve.

If this is what proves love here on land, he never wants to sing again.

Blaine drapes his body over Kurt’s, settled between his spread legs, holding himself up on one elbow.

Needs him, everywhere, there can’t be any more ways to be closer but he wants it - he wants him -

When every sense he has is overloaded, liquid fire down his back, and his mind a chaotic mess, he understands one thing; Blaine.

Blaine, with his hand wrapping around his cock, stroking gently, as if he’s trying to pull any resistance out from Kurt’s body. And Kurt is already helpless, hips jolting forward with every brush of Blaine’s hand.

Overwhelmed and everywhere and how could there possibly be _more - ?_

Blaine makes a noise, choking, a rasp of words, and mumbles, “This might be a bit gross, sorry -” and before Kurt can ask _what?_ Blaine is bringing his hand up to spit into it.

His grip is wet now, and Kurt understands what was missing.

There’s Blaine’s body, his cock, leaking over Kurt’s thigh, heavy. And Kurt wants to touch him, that’s what love is, but his arms are still useless and all he can do is lay there and take it and -

Blaine shifts, and reaches down between them, grasp on Kurt’s cock slipping away until there’s a new pressure, new feeling. Blaine right against him, hot and hard and pulsing, wet all over.

There couldn’t possibly be more but there is, and Blaine starts to rock forward.

Now he can’t do anything but cry. Every brush of their cocks together and Kurt sees the night sky when he closes his eyes. Winding and twisting and pulling so tight down low, heat building and building.

He turns his head, forces his arm up so he can press his face into his elbow. And there, mouth pressed against flushed, steaming skin, he cries out loud, eyes closed tightly. As if muffling his sounds against his skin will somehow make him less overwhelmed.

This has to be love. If this is love, he never wants to sing, just wants to make these sounds, wants to hear Blaine’s sounds. Blaine’s breath cracked and jagged and hot over Kurt’s face.

Just when he thinks he’s reaching the border - the border of the universe most likely because there’s nothing else _left_ \- Blaine pulls back, gasping hard, shaking on both arms now.

“Kurt - there’s -” Sucking in air before his arms give out and he collapses onto Kurt’s legs. “There’s more. If you want - if you want it.”

With his own chest rising and falling in a dangerous rhythm, Kurt stares down at him. “Yes - please - _yes_ -”

He doesn’t know what he’s agreeing to but he’d do anything Blaine asked - even if it were jumping off that edge of the universe -

Blaine lifts himself off the bed, eyes shooting from Kurt to the door, before stumbling out and then back in.

“Wow, alright,” Blaine breathes in deep, sitting before Kurt’s feet. “I should probably explain, um, what we’re doing.”

Kurt settles back, eyes on Blaine.

“Basically, and don’t freak out, but we put a part of our bodies . . into somebody else’s.”

At this Kurt sits up, vision going out of focus. “What?”

“The, um, the parts that we cover, are generally for -”

“To put inside another human?”

Blaine slaps his hands over his face, exhales through his fingers. “Sure, lets go with that.”

He hooks his hands under his knees again, lifts up, pressing his legs closer to his chest. “Kurt, I’m going to touch you here now. I-I put my fingers in . . . okay?”

Kurt’s brow squeezes together, eyes narrowed at Blaine, confusion hazy in his mind because what other part is there - ?

But then Blaine’s fingers are on him - a part that his kind don’t have. Kurt can’t help but clench underneath his touch, and as Blaine rubs the pad of his finger over it he feels the need and want in every nerve _explode_.

“And what -” he gasps out as Blaine rubs his finger in a circle. “What is that?”

Blaine has to tear his eyes away from where he’s looking, back up to Kurt. “This is going to sound _incredibly_ crude, but - it’s um, your hole . .”

Pieces click together in his mind, and his own fingers around his legs tighten. “And you put your . . ?”

“Is that okay?”

His lungs aren’t capable of holding any more air he is going to burst he can’t breathe it’s so hot -

“Y-yes.”

Blaine turns to the object he retrieved some time ago, holds it up for Kurt to see, but his mind is too far gone to question it.

And then Blaine’s finger is wet, cold, circling him, and Kurt jolts his hips up, clenches hard.  
“Blaine -”

“If this hurts, you need to tell me.”

“Hurts?”

“And breathe, okay? Please?”

Kurt closes his eyes, breathes out, in, forces his lungs to work. “You hurt the people you want to love?”

When Blaine doesn’t respond, Kurt opens his eyes, searches for him, and Blaine stares back, face blank.

“We do everything we can not to.”

And then his finger is pushing at Kurt’s hole, carefully, and Kurt remembers to breathe in and out, to not clench up.

He isn’t sure how it’s supposed to feel - he’s been tailless for such a small amount of time - but so far it’s strange. Blaine is inside of him. The tip of his finger is sinking in, and Kurt can’t help but squeeze, legs falling open.

He focuses on the harsh rhythm of Blaine’s breathing, on his own, and Blaine pushes his finger all the way in, stays still.

If putting your fingers inside people is love, then humans are most definitely the strangest creatures yet . . .

“How does it feel?” Blaine asks, words pulling Kurt out of the space his mind was floating in.

He forces out another breath and looks at Blaine, where his hand is buried between his legs. “Like I need more.”

Blaine nods and then grins, delighted expression clouding his face. “Good, that’s good.”

Kurt squirms when he begins to pull out, adding another finger tip.

“If it helps, you sort of have a perfect ass.”

His thoughts scatter, and his brow furrows, but - at this point Kurt thinks it’s better to not question human’s terminology.

This time he does feel a slight stretch, and he wishes he could see what it looks like if it’s so _tight_ , but he can’t exactly think of that when he’s gritting his teeth, eyes focused on Blaine.

He can’t keep the noise down, lets out a small whine, and when the stretch stops burning and Blaine works his fingers all the way in, only to pull out, he whines louder.

When he enters a third finger, Kurt isn’t sure how his body could stretch so much. He feels almost split open, it - it feels - it feels - it’s _searing_ , and his new limbs are tingling, his hole throbbing.

And even if he’s taken less than one hundred steps so far, his bones feel as strong as steel when he jolts upwards, grabbing Blaine by the shoulders, and Blaine only has a few seconds to pull out before he’s being flipped over.

“Show me how much you love me.”

He takes in the way Blaine swallows, the way his eyes glisten, and his heart is screaming it at him - how couldn’t they have proved it by now - _I love you._

On top of Blaine like this, knees on either side of him, he feels heavy as he sinks down, Blaine’s cock wet where it hits him.

“Do you -”

“Sure, yeah, just, remember to -”

“Breathe, I know,” Kurt says, eyes closed, air in through his nose and out his mouth.

He feels Blaine move underneath him, one hand gripping the flesh that rounds the tops of his legs - Blaine called it his ass - fingers tucking into the line of it, spreading him open. And then he’s lifting his hips up, wet throb of his cock meeting Kurt’s hole.

Instincts light up inside of him, tugging him down, and he rests back, allowing Blaine in.

This time the stretch - stings. He scrunches his eyes closed, can’t exactly breathe when it feels like this, he doesn’t think it’ll fit.

And it never ends. Inch after inch, Blaine guiding it in, his free hand holding Kurt’s hip.

The steel of his bones melt back into liquid, molten hot in his limbs, and he can’t support himself any more, chest collapsing to Blaine’s.

“ _Blaine._ ” Is all he works out, panting against his flushed skin.

“It’s okay it’s okay -” Blaine chants back, his face twisted up, teeth barred. “Hold onto the pillows, okay?”

Kurt snaps his eyes open to look at the piled fabric behind Blaine’s shoulders, and slides his hands up to grab at them.

And then Blaine is all the way in, completely connected, and he feels so - full. Like if they were to shift an inch Kurt would explode.

His mind is broken, cracked down the middle, and every thought has spilled out, gone, except for one;

“I love -” Kurt is barely able to whisper because Blaine grips hard at his hips, lifting him up, cock dragging out. “- you -”

Blaine makes a loud, strangled noise, fingernails digging in. “- love you -”

He doesn’t have the strength to move, wants to feel the burn that rips through him every time Blaine slides out - but Blaine holds him, pulls him down, and Blaine thrusts up hard, the length of him slamming in.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, squeezes the fabric tight, and he doesn’t know what to say - if he should say anything - because all he can do is _cry_.

Sweat is beading at the surface of his skin, over his back and neck and thighs. And he knows that never happened when he had a tail.

Every time Blaine slides in, pulsing hot and deep inside of him, Kurt feels a fire rage in his veins, in his pulse. Feels entirely helpless like this, with Blaine holding him, working his way in. Exploded nerves of his now being spread out, stretched, further and further and he doesn’t know when it’ll _snap_ -

And he doesn’t know any other human, but this - this is only something Blaine can give him.

Forcing his eyes open, he tilts his head down to look at Blaine, only to find that Blaine is staring at him.

And with that, the tug at his heart nearly rips it out of his chest, and he gasps out loud.

“It’s so -” His words are punctuated by the rotation of his own hips, sinking himself down, over and over. Blaine stretching and filling him all the way. “It feels -”

Blaine’s fingers fall back to his scales, and Kurt’s arms give out then, dragging his belly lower.

Only to feel his own cock drag against Blaine’s stomach, and electricity is jolting through his middle and up his spine. Tension weighs him down, pulling and pulling and then finally - snapping. His cock pulses, back arching, and he sobs, broken cries, and then stills.

Panting for air against Blaine’s neck, he says, “What was - what -”

Still inside of him, cock hard and deep, Blaine brings a hand up and pets at his soaked hair. “It’s okay. That’s what’s supposed to happen.”

He tilts his head, weakly looks up at Blaine. “And you - ?”

“Inside of you?”

The thought of it burns bright behind his eyes, under his heart, and he nods, then squeezes impossibly tight. “ _Yes_.”

Blaine’s arms fan out, and he closes them tight around Kurt’s back, holding him as he jolts upwards, quick pumps inside of Kurt, and then all Kurt can feel is a wet heat filling him.

And looking at Blaine, his closed eyes, open mouth, deep breaths spilling out of him, Kurt thinks, _I come from the deepest part of the ocean, but I have never truly felt like I was drowning until now._

-

They sit next to each other in the sand. Above them the sky is quickly turning to a glowing blue, the sun a bright orange in the distance.

He feels his breath catch, air stuck in his lungs, because he’ll never get used to it. Humans get to see the sun everyday, hanging in the sky, saying goodnight by painting the world in the most vibrant of colours - he hopes there will never come a day that he grows tired of it.

Kurt drags a hand through the sand, watching as it falls between his fingers. He keeps his toes on the shoreline, water lapping over his feet. It’s cold in a way that it hasn’t ever been before, and he laughs as a wave turns vicious and sprays up at him.

From his side he can feel Blaine’s eyes. And if there was anything else in the world that he hopes he never grows used to, it’s that. Blaine looking at him, the way his eyes reflect the water, the sun, the way he smiles and reaches out to place his hand over Kurt’s.

“I can’t believe you’re real,” Blaine says, quiet underneath the crashing waves.

His hand moves, and his touch is delicate as he brushes it along Kurt’s thigh. His skin is soft, and Kurt shivers as his thumb finds the scales, sweeping over them.

Kurt turns so he can press his side further into Blaine, and with his fingers coated in wet sand he brings a hand up to draw a line over Blaine’s cheek, says, softly, “I could say the same thing.”

A million souls in the water, a million creatures around him, and nothing like Blaine.

And beyond the sand there’s an entirely different world waiting for Kurt, but he knows, with every heartbeat and every breath, that there will never be anything like Blaine. Anywhere.

This will be hard. It’s not as easy as having legs, he knows this, knows it because the ocean is pulling at him, drawing him back. His skin is embedded with ocean water, his heart mixed with the sea, and he’ll have to give up that ocean with its millions of souls and creatures.

Blaine laughs, bright and warm, and curls his fingers around Kurt’s wrist, only to pull him closer and place a kiss to the back of his hand.

He’ll have to give up so much.

But for so much _more._

Maybe that’s another definition of love. Putting all your faith, all your trust, into one thing;

Into Blaine.

As the sun fades, he thinks, and he clears his throat before saying, “Blaine, I still wish to sing to you.”

It might not work, it might not sound the same. But before you can greet a new life you must bid goodbye to your old one.

“Okay,” Blaine whispers, kissing Kurt’s hand before lowering it back to the sand.

His eyes never leave his, and Kurt feels his core heat up.

He sings and - it hurts - like rock against rock, scraping, but he doesn’t stop. He thinks there might be water in his lungs from how heavy they feel, but he doesn’t stop.

His heart beats madly, wildly, this is love this is love this is -

Maybe it’s not water filling his lungs . .

He sings about him - Blaine is the sun, Blaine is the golden beams and its warmth. Blaine makes him feel like sunken treasure discovered, the only soul in the sea worth touching.

It’s not the same song that he planned to sing earlier, because now Kurt knows how much more love can be. Blaine’s eyes and his kiss and his hands on him, and he doesn’t know how to use human’s language to say it - but his own isn’t much better.

Sounds that cling to his throat, once sweet and high - and now he can only -

Blaine’s hand is holding his again. The water flowing around their legs is cold, bitter freezing, ice.

And under the one hand he has on his leg, the skin is smooth under his fingertips . .

He wants to sing about the dark, the depths of the sea where Kurt doesn't belong, but he tries and his throat burns and he can’t - it doesn’t work anymore -

Blaine’s fingers close tighter, and his eyes are two bright points pinned to Kurt.

And then he can’t sing anymore. Every breath feels new, he has to force it out until it comes easily. The water feels stabbing, unknown, but he can’t move.

He looks to Blaine’s smile, because there is nothing more vibrant, nothing warmer, nothing Kurt would rather look at.

He can’t sing but there’s one word in his mind, one word forming before he can choose not to, one word that he’s loved saying since he first met him -

“Blaine.”

When Blaine laughs he cries, a broken sob, and his arms are tight around him, hand in his hair and face pressed against his. A kiss that Kurt wants to be locked in for a thousand years, and somehow it feels new.

The sky is void of gold, only blue and black and teal, stars beginning to sparkle.

But Kurt has spent so long not having dreams, he’s spent so long reaching for the sun. And even though it’s set, there’s Blaine; holding him and kissing him.

Years reaching for the sun;

And now he has him.

**Author's Note:**

> I posted this on my tumblr and I thought it would be a good start to posting the rest of my fic here!


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